“Oh, my dear father, it is like a dream,” Gannon began, in a voice filled with enthusiasm. “The meandering walk that leads from the massive iron gates to the palace is bordered with short-trimmed boxwood, over which peep dark crimson anemones, golden daffodils, purple violets, pale-blue hyacinths, and the starlike blooms of the white narcissus. Superb pine-trees interweave their branches across the walk, revealing the blue sky as through the meshes of a green net. Roofs of verdure embower pure white statues of Diana, Daphne, naiads, and dancing fauns. Fountains play sweet and endless music. Quiet pools of water, with lilies floating on the surface, are bordered by majestic firs. Carved marble benches are placed in shady nooks and corners, and rustic summer-houses here and there invite to rest. The words of Homer seem to have become living things. O my father, Maecenas, the rich minister of the Divine Augustus, well knew how to group the gifts of the gods in delightful harmony.” “Maecenas was more Greek than Roman, my son,” said Alcmaeon. “No Roman, except the Divine Augustus, understood beauty as he did.” “Maecenas built his palace of marble as temples are built,” continued Gannon. “Graceful columns with Corinthian capitals support the roof of the atrium, peristyle, and corridors. Some of the rooms have walls of polished marble. All are lavishly decorated with rare paintings, exquisite carvings, beautiful statues,--all the work of the deft fingers of our countrymen. It is not surpassed even by the palace of Tiberius, which I described to thee last week.” “As if by magic, my son,” said Alcmaeon, proudly, “Greek hands have congealed and fixed forever the ecstasies of the affections. Painting, sculpture, and architecture, O Gannon, are the gifts of the Greeks to the world.” “On the opposite sides of the atrium,” continued Gannon, “with their faces towards each other, are two wonderful busts of Plato and Socrates. So lifelike are they that they seem to speak.” “They are well placed, my son. Plato looks to Socrates for intellectual light; Socrates looks to Plato to transmit that light to souls that sit in darkness.” “Verily, my father, ’tis strange what influence the Greeks have over the Romans.” “Ah! Forget not, my son,” said Alcmaeon, “that beauty, art, and understanding still rule the world. Rome has conquered Greece by military force; but Greece has conquered the world by that higher celestial force, intellect. Greece has had her day of wealth and power; but her genius, her art, her architecture, her statues, her poetry, and her philosophy are living influences, before whose vitality the Roman legions are impotent.” “True, my father. Yet before the Roman legions the world trembles,” said Gannon.